My mother, space cadet

So I called my Mom yesterday. We chatted for a while about how our respective Christmases went, what we're doing for New Year's, jobs, pets, etc.

Finally, it comes to this:

TK: Ok, well I gotta go and get some work done so I can leave on time.
Mom: Oh, you're still at work?
(Note: My mother continually forgets that there is a six hour time difference between us. Which is why I occasionally get calls at 2:00 in the morning)
TK: Yeah, for a few more hours and then we're (the wife and I) going out to dinner.
Mom: Oh, how nice. Where are you going?
TK: Place called Dom's in the North End.
Mom: Oh, that sounds lovely. Are you just going for fun, or is there something exciting?

beat

beat

beat

TK: Um... it's our wedding anniversary...
Mom: OH! OH! Oh sweetie, I'm SO SO SO sorry! I can't - no, I didn't forget. See, here's the thing! I woke up this morning and said to myself - you must remember to call TK on the 28th! I just didn't know when the 28th was.
-----------------------

OK. So here's the thing... that goofy excuse about not knowing when the 28th was? I totally buy it. Because that's the kind of dizzy shit my mom will say. I love her to death, and she is hands down one of the smartest and classiest women I know. But sometimes she just gets... goofy. It's actually somewhat endearing. She's unbelievably sweet, and part of it is that mix of smarts, sophistication, and utter cluelessness. So she is forgiven.

My sister, on the other hand... not so much.

And yes, my mother does frequently start her sentences with "Oh!"

If I don't get around to writing anything before Monday, have a wonderful and safe and spectacular New Years.

Tally ho the fox!

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Duke Tk the Malleable of Bow under Bumpstead Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Props to Maxine Dangerous.

As for my fortune:

My Fortune Cookie told me: Confucius say, it is time to lift a stone only to drop on your own feet. Get a cookie from Miss Fortune

Which is fun, because just recently I dropped a rather heavy stone on my foot. Because I am sometimes awfully clumsy.

I cannot make a fucking decision...

I'd like to think this is the last time I'll change the layout... but I doubt that's true.

Regarding crazy uncles

I forgot to include this story. My uncle, let's call him Uncle Dumbass, has a truly bizarre habit. He's one of those knowitall jackasses who is convinced that he knows everything about every topic, when in fact he knows very little about almost no topics. He once got into a very heated argument with my wife about breeds of dogs. He was convinced there was a dog called an English Ridgeback. Not a Rhodesian Ridgeback, but an English Ridgeback. A few things to demonstrate how truly idiotic this is:

1. My Uncle Dumbass is, like me, from South Africa. The Rhodesian Ridgeback originated in Rhodesia, which woould eventually become Zimbabwe. Zimbabwe is on the South African border. As children in SA, we actually learned about this dog in history class, as it was used to hunt lions. He apparently skipped that lesson.

2. My uncle is a carpenter.

3. My wife, on the other hand, is a VETERINARIAN. Just as she wouldn't argue with him about miter-saws and lathes, he should, in turn, probably not argue with her about dogs.

I digress.

So, the scene: My aunt's dining room table... ooh! let me digress one more time because my aunt and uncle have reached a level of tackiness as to become truly glorious. Their dining room has: a) pink walls, b) a giant brass-and-white-and-crystal chandelier, and c) a giant black, white and green marble dining room table. It's stunning. If you're ever in their neighborhood, I highly recommend touring their house.

Anyway. The scene: My aunt's giant tacky dining room table. Present - my aunt, Dumbass, and moi. My aunt has cooked up a storm, and it is delicious delicious delicious. She made a few roasts (ham, beef), some various veggies, corned beef, those nasty sweet potato and marshmallow things (which was the only dark spot), and seafood curry. Curry is a staple for most members of my family, since there is a sizable Indian population in South Africa.

My Aunt: TK, aren't you going to have any curry?
TK: Mmff..ggg...chew... yes. It'll be my dessert! I'm going through the meat courses first.
Uncle Dumbass: Oh, that's right, you don't like spicy food.
TK, MA together: Huh?
UD: I forgot, your mom never made spicy food because you and your sister never liked it.
TK: What the hell are you talking about?
UD: You. You could never handle spicy food. Have you gotten better at it?
TK: Are you drunk again? I've always craved spicy food. In fact, when I was a kid, other kids rarely ate at our house because the food was too spicy.
UD: No, that's not right. You could never handle it. I remember.
TK: (starting to lose temper). I 'm starting to remember that you're... insane. What are you talking about? I've been eating spicy food for as long as I've been eating solid food. My mother makes perhaps the best curry in the world. Are you just making this up?
UD: Maybe I'm thinking of someone else.
TK: (in my head) maybe you're just a fucking dumbass.

Later on, I was lamenting waking up Christmas morning in an empty house, and he tried to remind me that I've never been that into Christmas. In fact, for my entire life, Christmas has been my favorite day of the year. I used to wake up at 5:00 in the morning and pace around my room in my Snoopy pajamas until it was ok to wake everyone else up. I still wake up ridiculously early on Christmas day.

And I'm spent. But that's a brief glimpse into the madness that is my uncle, and why I don't go around there much.

The post-Christmas post

Yaaaaaay, back at work.

Wait... shit.

Anyway. How was everyone's Christmas? I hope you all received lots of shiny pretty things. Christmas, I may have mentioned, is without a doubt my favorite time of the year. Which is why, unfortunately, mine was a mixed bag. It started out boring as hell, then became lame as hell, but finally became wonderful. Here's some of the highlights and lowlights.

My parents, as I also may have mentioned, live in another country. So I don't see them. They also did not call me. They are going to have to beg my forgiveness. Especially because I tried to call them.

My sister didn't come visit. This is a so-so thing. I love my sister to death, she's insane and crazy and hysterically funny, not to mention fascinating. She directs theater in NYC. She's also sometimes a horrendous house guest. Nonetheless, I like seeing her at the holidays, but she was apparently simply too wiped out. That's OK.

I woke up Christmas morning by myself. My wife, Mrs. Uncooked Meat, was working an overnight. That was somewhat depressing. So instead I spent 30 minutes running around with Audrey yelling "BEAGLE'S FIRST CHRISTMAS! MERRY CHRISTMAS BEAGLE!" This earned me some looks from my neighbors, but fuck them. And I mean that in a charming, yuletide way.

I went to see my aunt. I do have one aunt who lives around here, with my uncle and their 3 sons. I did not mention them before because, despite them living 10 miles away, I rarely see them. Mainly because my uncle is an insufferable bastard. But it was good to see the boys again. They got me what they usually get me... a fleece pullover and a waffle-print thermal shirt, and a gift certificate. They have gotten me those exact things three times. I'm not kidding. It's quite odd.

Finally, I went home, and my wife had returned from work, had a few hours sleep, and made my Christmas splendid. I got home to a fire a-blazin' in the fireplace, Christmas lights everywhere, and a waiting mug of eggnog. We opened presents, poked at the fire, played with the dogs, listened to Christmas music, and attempted to snuggle on the couch. I say attempted because this is very difficult with two dogs competing for affection. But it was great. So, in brief: Christmas - started out slow, ended great.



Happy holidays everyone.

Random things I fell in love with this week...

In no particular order of coolness, some new, some old:

1. The Wire. My boss has been raving about it for weeks, especially since much of it is filmed in Baltimore public housing. And while we are not in Baltimore, my work does invlove public housing. A friend gave season one to me for Christmas and I am steadily ripping through it.
2. Eggnog. It's a seasonal love affair that rears it's head each year. The trick to successful boozy nog is not too much booze. Just a little splash of rum and kapow! Holiday tastiness ensues. Oddly, Blogger doesn't recognize the word "nog".
   
3. Lucero. Raspy, bluesy, roadhouse music. Trust me.
4. Dunproofin. Some of the better mashups I've stumbled across. Also, Lenlow. Hopefully, they don't mind me linking to them.
5. Corduroys. I don't care if I look like a 6' 2" nine-year old. Those fuckers are comfy.
6. Sweet potato curry. Two things I would never have thought to put together, but the end result is superb.
7. My new boots. Interestingly, I learned that the days of just buying snow boots or work boots are past. I wanted boots that were a) waterproof, and b)insulated. I got boots that are waterproof, insulated, oil resistant, shock resistant(shock as in zzzap!, not shock as in "Oh my!"), anti-skid and I believe the treads are made out of teeny tiny billy goats. Incidentally, this purchase will lead to a fascinating blog posting, as the trip was weird and funny.
   
8. Global warming. Well, not really. But there's something to be said for going out in December in New England wearing jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt and being perfectly comfortable. So what if 20 years from now we have to live underwater or on the moon. The downside is that there is now little reason for me to wear the aforementioned boots. Nor use my new snowblower.
   
9. Jose's Mexican restaurant in North Cambridge. Tiny little place next to a railroad track that has phenomenal service, excellent authentic Mexican food, and a margarita that'll make you see Jesus.
10. Watching my three-legged beagle try to do the high-five trick.
    

I worked my ass off today.

On my last day of work before my (brief) holiday break I have:

1. Eaten a pile of Chinese food.
2. Googled the lyrics to "Do They Know It's Christmas", and determined it to be completely idiotic. ("They won't get snow in Africa this Christmastime"? Well, it is fucking AFRICA. Also, they do in fact have rivers, and it rains frequently. And finally, I suspect the 50% or more doesn't give a fuck if it's Christmas because said 50% is... fucking... Muslim.)
3. Downloaded, and then listened to, all of the mashups from this site. They are awesome.
4. Briefly looked at next year's projected budgets.
5. Went out for coffee.
6. Watched internet trailers for Transformers (oh, lordy), Shrek 3 (oh, LORDY), Live Free or Die Hard (that's a fucking joke, right?) and Grindhouse (supercool).
7. Spent waaay too much time on Pajiba, watching people comment on nauseous vs. nauseated.
8. Went out for coffee again.
9. Had a 30 minute conversation with my co-worker Josh about Super Troopers and the fact that it's one of the 5 greatest dumb-yet-smart comedies ever.
10. Watched the Band Aid video on Youtube, considered posting it here, decided it would negatively affect what little blogging cred I have, reconsidered since there is no such thing as blogging cred, then re-reconsidered because I realized I was spending entirely too much time thinking about "Do They Know it's Christmas". Pssst, here's the link. It will make you giggle.
11. Listened to the entire Rubber Factory album by the Black Keys, and decided that I love it, and therefore will remain friends with my friend Pax.
12. Read all of IMDB's quotes from The Big Lebowski, to re-affirm that it is complete and utter genius.
13. Read the bio on Matthew McConnaghey (I don't care if I spelled it wrong) and re-affirmed that he is a jackass.
14. Wondered if my sister was coming up for Christmas. Knowing her, she will call me to tall me she just arrived, and can I come pick her up. And she will choose the most inconvenient station to disembark at. I love her. I also hate her. But more love.
15. Read Bill Simmons' weekly football picks.
16. Made this blog entry.

And I'm out. Peace, all.

Dog # 2

Ceili (KAY-lee). Five years old. Half Pointer, half Setter. About as friendly as a dog can possibly be. A little too affectionate at times, to the point of annoying. Sweet, but has a tendency to jump up on people. Also runs into my sliding glass doors with startling regularity.

That is my old kitchen floor, which I hated. The new one is much cooler. But not necessarily cool enough to post pictures of. My next blog will just be horrible pictures of boring crap around my house. "Ooooh, a medicine cabinet". "Aaaah, floorboards!"

More holiday cheer

Not to beat this holiday thing to death, but I figured I should talk a little about family during the holidays. I just got through an extended conversation with one of my co-workers about how the winter holidays drive him crazy because he has to deal with his family. While he loves them very much, they can drive him buggy, and having to buy presents for 15 people is a bit excessive. I thought about that a bit, and then I thought about my family a bit, and I reached a few conclusions.

My family is somewhat fascinating. It's very culturally mixed, and absolutely enormous. My mother is one of seven children, my father one of five. All of my aunts and uncles have at least three children. I have about 25 cousins on my mother's side alone. And they are, in many ways, completely insane. Consider:

Three of my uncles are priests.

Two of my uncles are most likely serious alcoholics. Not alcoholics in a ha-ha way, but alcoholics in a you-should-probably-dry-out-before-your-wife-leaves-you way.

The entire family is ROWDY. I mean, party until 4:00AM on a routine basis rowdy. They are loud, they scream, they dance, they play musical instruments until the wee hours. And did I mention the drinking?

Various members of my family are frequently in quiet or not-so-quiet feuds with each other.

I have a cousin who steals, gets into fights, and gets tossed in the clink fairly regularly.

My grandmother is 97 and does not know who I am. This is not meant to be funny, btw.

They have absolutely no idea what to buy each other for Christmas, so frequently, all the boy cousins get the same thing. Regardless of whether they're 13 or 30. It's a little odd when the 20somethings get toy cars. Or when the 13 year olds get cologne. Cologne that smells like a prostitute who just finished up on a football team.

So that's my family, without getting too detailed. They're crazy, they're irritating, they're loud, obnoxious, drunkards. They're sometimes ignorant, sometimes annoying, and sometimes seek out trouble.

They're also, as the crow flies, about 8,000 miles away. That's about 13,000 kilometers. About 22 hours by plane. About $1500 for a single ticket to fly there. I will not see them for Christmas this year. I did not see them for Christmas last year.




I guess what I'm saying is... your family might be annoying as hell, but fuck it. It's your family. Go, open presents, drink some egg nog, eat too much, listen to shitty Christmas music, watch some basketball or football, get into arguments, and give out some hugs.

Trust me, the alternative sucks.

Happy Holidays, everyone.

Evidence

Faith No More

I promise to start talking about different music soon. Honest.

For those who are curious

Audrey, the three-legged beagle. Hit by a car, taken to the vet, back left leg amputated, owners refused to pay. My wife (a vet herself) brought her home. Adorable, affectionate, sweet, with a black heart which knows no limit of evil.

Pics of dog #2 to follow.

A charming little holiday party turns to bedlam

So, the wife and I had our inaugural holiday party on Saturday. Since we just bought our house in May, this was something of a big deal. A quiet little get together, some wine, some beer, some tasty hors d'ouevres . Started at six. About 10-15 people. Some soft music.

Right.

Couple of things I left out. Like the fact that we were dog-sitting for our friend Kristen. And we already have two dogs. Thus, three dogs barreling around the house looking for snacks.

Like the fact that I thought a bottle of Bushmills and a bottle of Bailey's would be a sophisticated addition to the little event.

Like the fact that my friends run the gamut between borderline drinking problem and full-blown alcoholics.

Needless to say, my wife passed out at 10:30. Only to get up at 2:00, stagger downstairs and proceed to DO THE DISHES. She's a bit of a neat freak, even when hammered. Next thing I knew it was 4:30 in the morning and my house looked like the aftermath of the Battle of Verdun. Bodies lying everywhere, a preposterous number of empty beer bottles, no more whiskey, no more Baileys, no more wine (including our "not-for-parties" stash). Dogs curled up with guests.

Basically, dogs and cats, living together... mass hysteria! I finally staggered to bed after extinguishing the bum fire I had set in my barbeque. Woke up the next morning to my now perky and bright-eyed wife. Wanted to die, but couldn't summon the strength to take my own life. But the wife, bless her Irish heart, proceeded to make eggs and bacon for the whole hungover crew.

Spent the rest of the day either napping or watching the Pats destroy the Texans. All in all, a good time. But not one I can repeat very often. Except, of course, until my friend Jai's New Year's party.

Happy holidays, everyone.

Some words about Mike Patton

I was inspired by a post over at Deus Ex Malocontent to write a bit about what I think is perhaps one of the most talented individuals to enter the music scene in the last 20 years. I am speaking, of course, about Mike Patton, lead singer of (now defunct) Faith No More.

I know, I know. You loved that song Epic. Shut the fuck up for a second.

Epic is perhaps one of the worst songs FNM ever wrote. In fact, it's easily their weakest album. And I'm not saying that in the "I hate it because it's popular" way that people rip on movies that make too much money, despite being very good. I'm saying that because it's the truth. Over the course of a bizarre career, Faith No More released 4 albums (5 if you include Introduce Yourself, the pre-Patton album). They are all fascinating, complex albums, with varying degrees of success. What makes them so engaging is the broad range of musical styles that FNM uses. The rap-esque style that was Epic is, in fact, almost never used again. Patton boasts an amazing voice, capable of twisting and manipulating it for astonishing results. He can move from a Slayer-esque roar to a crooning lull in a heartbeat, so much so that one sometimes feels like there is more than one person singing.

But perhaps the most interesting thing is that each album reads like a person with multiple personality disorder. Each song, for the most part, is Patton playing a role. And the roles are varied and bizarre. From Underwater Love to Surprise! You're Dead, each one is a story about someone. And those "someones" range from vampires to drug dealers to hopeless trailer-park rednecks. Faith No More is one of those bands where if you don't play close attention to the lyrics, you're missing half the fun. Here's a quick rundown of the albums:

The Real Thing (1989) Their first album with Mike Patton. Weird and completely different from what was out at the time, it took the music world in it's hands and shook it up. Unfortunately, it also doomed them to become somewhat one-hit wonders, except for those who took the time to explore it more closely. The standouts on the album are Falling to Pieces, Underwater Love, Edge of the World and From Out of Nowhere. Many get turned off by Pattons high-pitched, almost nasal voice on many of the tracks, but keep listening. Trust me.

Angel Dust (1992) My favorite album of the 90's. Seriously. Freaking brilliant work, that truly defines what people meant when the term "alternative music" was coined. An eclectic combination of rock, punk, country, techno, funk, you name it. Also one of those rare albums that one can listen to from start to finish and never be disappointed. Standouts include RV, a desperate, Drive-By Truckers like track about a man living in a trailer park with no future, contemplating his life. Crack Hitler, about a drug smuggler. Be Aggressive, set to cheerleaders chanting in the background. Kindergarten, about, well, kindergarten. You know what? Forget it. They're all good songs. Buy the album. Really, stop reading and go get it.

King for a Day, Fool for a Lifetime (1995) I'll be honest. I ran out and bought this the day it came out. I listened to it all the way through, shook my head in disgust, stuck it on a shelf and left it there for six months.

Six months later, I gave it another shot, and promptly declared it genius. I have no idea why things happened this way, but there you are. And it remains genius. Almost on par with Angel Dust. Some truly strange stuff on it - Cuckoo for caca, a screaming, raving piece about, I think, being a dog. The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, about basically being a bastard. Take This Bottle, a gentle dirge about drinking yourself to death and then watching your loved ones from afar. I could go on and on. The musical styles range from loving ballads to roaring, feedback-fueled noise-rock. But somehow, they make it work. Sometimes I think on of their greatest gifts has been simply how they arrange the tracks, let alone the compositions themselves.

OK, I gotta get back to work. More later on the final album, Album of the Year, as well as Mr. Bungle, Tomahawk, and other Patton side-projects.

Seriously. Go buy Angel Dust.

I am a huge dork

Anyone who knows me knows this. I'm not a taped glasses, living in the basement dork... but I still play video games, love science fiction, and read the occasional comic book. Sure, I try to cool it up a little by dressing respectably and marrying someone substantially less dorky than I, but at heart, I am a giant geek.

So, in honor of said geekiness, I rented a couple of movies this week. Here's a quick review:

Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Mans Chest - Wow. Awful, awful movie. The first pirates movie was actually a pleasant surprise, because a) Johnny Depp was, as usual, freaking brilliant. Funny, goofy, and amazing to watch; b) the sets and effects were remarkable. Clever without being cartoonish; c) Keira Knightley - let's be honest - I'd watch Keira Knightley read a book for 90 minutes, and I don't even like that "skinny chick" look. But for her I'd make an exception.

So what went wrong? First, it fell victim to the classic sequel problem of trying to out-do it's predecessor. Too many explosions, ridiculous fight scenes, etc. Second, I think the novelty of Captain Jack has worn off. They didn't really take it anywhere new, so Depp was just sort of Jack Sparrow 1.2. Lame. 3. Orlando Bloom is still incredibly boring to watch. So yes, a profound disappointment.

I also watched...

Superman Returns: Like I said, giant dork. But goddamn if I didn't enjoy the hell out of it. Was is incredibly similar to the old Donner movie? Absolutely. Was it amazing to watch? Absolutely. Since I'm not a movie reviewer, I'll simply point out a few things: Kevin Spacey is amazing in his ability to completely become a character. There are only three or four major action scenes, and two of them absolutely blew me away - the plane rescue scene, and Supes flying through the city saving people during the earthquake. Brandon Routh had just enough to carry the role - I don't think he's destined to become a great actor, but he plays a very good Superman.

Anyway. Just a small glimpse into my geekiness.



By the way, this is over six minutes long, so beware. But Goddamn if it isn't fun.

OK, I'm a Patriots fan and all but....

That's just... scary? Awesome? Hysterical yet disturbing? Some fantastic combo of all of those things?

Movie madness... and not the good kind.

So, not to harp on The Departed, but being a Boston boy it was hard not to love it.

But here's the truly sad thing. There were no interruptions in the theater. No pagers, cell phones, conversations, nothing. Nada. Nihil. That's not sad, you say. And you're right, it's fucking glorious. What's sad is that I've reached the point where every time I go to the movies, I spend two+ hours secretly cringing, waiting for someone's cell phone to ring, or some other noisy bullshit. And then I'm surprised when nothing happens.

That, people, is truly fucked up.

The moviegoing experience has devolved so much that we now expect people to be assholes. What was once a sacred pleasure of mine has now become a source of stress. I went to see King Kong and had to deal with two tween boys who spent the movie running up and down the aisles, talking, and howling like fucking baboons. Until I finally had to threaten to break their arms. And believe me, I am not the type of person who revels in threatening children. But FUCK.

And babies. Oh, Lord. Here's the deal - if you have a child who cannot keep quiet in a theater, then you either GET A MOTHERFUCKING SITTER, or you forfeit your right to go to the movies. I'm sorry. It sucks. But you're the one with the rugrat, why make us suffer with you?

Look, I get it. People suck, humans as a general rule will disappoint you. Fine. That's unfortunate, but I'm willing to accept it to a point. But what amazes me about this whole "let's be a complete shitheel in the movie theater" trend is this: Didn't we all come to enjoy a movie? I mean, isn't that why people shell out the ridiculous money for tickets and popcorn and soda and fucking corn dogs and whatever the hell else? Isn't it why we endure this awful new trend of 8,000 commercials for Coke and Chevy that are now essentially trailers for the trailers? So that at the end of all that madness and annoyance and delay, we can sit back, munch on our corn dogs, and enjoy the movies?

So why fuck it up? I don't get it. Why go through all the frustration of simply getting to the start of the movie, and then allow yourself to be interrupted? I... don't... understand... it. Maybe I take movies more seriously than others (likely). But I'm at the point where I want movie theaters to have bouncers. Not ushers. Bouncers. Big, ugly, ex-linebacker types who will dislocate your elbow and then toss you into a dumpster for answering your cell phone.

Is that so much to ask?

New glasses?

I got new glasses last week. And now the following exchange is stuck in my head:

Marge: Have you noticed any change in Bart?
Homer: New glasses?
Marge: No...he looks like something might be disturbing him.
Homer: Probably misses his old glasses.
Marge: I guess we could get more involved in Bart's activities but then
      I'd be afraid of smothering him.
Homer: Yeah, and then we'd get the chair.
Marge: That's not what I meant.
Homer: It was, Marge, admit it.

*chuckle*

Perhaps the coolest thing I've seen this week.

I discovered this on http://www.curlymcdimple.com

And it makes me giggle with uncontrolled glee.

Soundtrack of your life

The rules:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc.)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...

Here we go:

Opening Credits: It Wasn't Me - Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins... hmmm... that's a weird one

Waking Up: Another Saturday Night - Cat Stevens... probably better suited if this was a song about hangovers

First Day at School: Cocaine Blues - Johnny Cash... both of you shut the hell up.

Falling In Love: More - Rhymefest

Fight Song: The Desperate Man - The Black Keys... nice...

Breaking Up: Strike 3 (and I'm out)... some of these make no sense, some, like this one, fit perfectly.

Prom: An Ordinary Soldier - Jennifer Kimball... huh.

Life: Mama's Room - Under the Influence of Giants... I'm sure that's funny, just not sure why

Mental Breakdown: They - Jem

Driving: Do Or Die - Dropkick Murphys... shut UP, Dan

Flashback: Mother - Afro-Celt Sound System

Getting Back Together: Once Around the Block - Badly Drawn Boy... that doesn't really make sense...

Wedding: Herbs, Good Hygeine and Socks - Lovage... ok, THAT'S fuckin' funny

Birth of Child: Wow - Snow Patrol... again, strangely fitting

Final Battle: Moonshiner - Uncle Tupelo... basically a song about an alcoholic... this bodes ill for my final battle.

Death Scene: Jocking My Style - Kool Keith

Funeral Song: It's A Hit - Rilo Kiley

End Credits: Do It Yourself - Drive-By Truckers


Wasn't that fun? I love this shit. Now you do it, buckos.

Happy Holiday Season, Bitches!

Ahhh, Christmas is upon us. And I must admit, it's my favorite time of the year. I love presents, I love snow, I love trees, and dammit, there are times when I love crass commercialism. So a big fuck you to all the grinches out there.

Though I confess, I went to my wife's office Christmas party, and lemme tell you... coming from someone who works in the public sector... the corporate world scares the shit out of me. And her job isn't even that corporate - she's a vet for a large hospital. But there was all sorts of insane pressure on the staff to go, and they had a bunch of weird games and "team building activities", including (and I am not making this up) Corporate Family Feud. It was utterly bizarre. Really, truly made me appreciate what I do.


In other news, I saw The Departed last weekend which was completely awesome. It was the first movie where I've ever really bought into DiCaprio. I mean, I liked The Beach, and Gangs of New York, but I never truly believed him to be a grown up, let alone a tough guy. But I'll tell you... he's something of a bad motherfucker in this. Highly recommended.

Long time no... ah, fuck it.

OK, here is attempt # 2. I tried the blogging thing and failed miserably, losing track of it after only three posts. But things have changed. I've changed. I'm wearing clean underwear.

So Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I feel like I ate a cannonball. Thursday was awesome, spent at a friend's family's house. His parents are kind enough to feed all his friends who are from out of town, or who hate their families. Me, I'm a little bit of column A, a little bit of column B. The food was delish.

Friday was... suspect (see above). A different friend decided to deep fry a turkey. Which sounded intriguing, despite the fact that he lives in an apartment in Central Sq. in Cambridge with no deck or yard or anywhere outdoors to perform said feat of fry-o-lating. So we went and did it in the parking lot.

Down the street.

The lot where I park my car for work. Yes, it's a private lot. Yes, what we were doing was perhaps not, oh, shall we say, entirely legal. I mean, it's not like we were raping cub scouts out there, but still. It got particularly touch and go when we had to rig up a ladder as a derrick to lower the turkey into the vat of boiling oil. But the mission was accomplished quite successfully.

And that fucker was the best turkey I'd ever eaten, no lie.

All right, I'll be back in another five months.

Who is Mike Jones? Someone I'd like to punch in the face.

Quickie addition - I got my hands on a copy of the new Built to Spill album, and it rocks. Except that it also sucks. Why, you ask? Because I believe it's pirated, and it's interspersed with that hip-hop moron Mike Jones' voice yelling "WHO IS MIKE JONES" throughout it. ON EVERY SONG. I fucking hate that guy. Note to MJ - yelling your name out every 20 seconds on every song you write is NOT BEING CREATIVE. It's self-indulgent crap. The next time you have an idea, I want you to write it down on a piece of paper, and then set it on fire. Prick.

Oil Barons and Indians, and more nonsense.

Can someone please explain to me why I'm paying three bucks a gallon at the pump? I thought the hurricane was last year. Goddamn oil companies, looks like they're gonna spend another summer sticking it in the ass of the consumer. I'm really starting to get pissed off.

Red Sox in Cleveland tonight, Schilling going for that 5th "W"... and I have a meeting to go to. I hate my job, and can't be more excited that this is my last week.

I watched "The Girl Next Door" last night... suprisingly good movie. Sure, some of the acting is a little flat, but it's actually not the gross-out teen comedy I expected. In fact, it was surprisingly sweet. The kid, Emile Hirsch, is pretty good, and the scene where he's on X had me rolling. And Elisha Cuthbert is insanely hot in it. I don't always think she's hot, but in that... man.

OK, the NFL. Draft day is on Saturday. I admit, I want to see how the top ten goes, and I want to see who the Pats take. But for the love of GOD, could ESPN, and SI, and all the other outlets PLEASE give the pre-draft stuff a rest. I mean, this is easily the most over-hyped year, draft-wise, EVER. Yes, Leinart is gonna be a franchise guy. YES, Young could be the next Steve Young (and hopefully not the next Steve McNair). Yes, Bush is going #1. Mario Williams? Freak of nature. AJ Hawk? Quality guy. But after that, can we please shut the fuck up about it? Please?

Great, and funny, review on Pajiba about the new movie, The Sentinel. http://www.pajiba.com/sentinel-the.htm

God I love that site.

OK, I'm done. Should anyone accidentally stumble onto this site, feel free to comment. Otherwise, look for more stream-of-consciousness bullshit later.

Well... here we are

Why I started this is beyond me. But since we're here (or at least, I'm here) I figured I'd run down some of the random crap you'll see me waste my time on. Important issues such as:

The Boston Red Sox
The pathetic decline of popular music, and the sadness that comes upon me when I realize how truly unappreciated Faith No More was.
Leftist politics (but not too much... I've grown weary of politics in general)
Movies, particularly B-Movies and genre pics.
My growing obsession with Anne Hathaway.
My growing revulsion towards Lindsey Lohan.
My job (which will hopefully soon change!)

And hopefully more interesting things as time progresses.

But let'ss start with #1 - the BoSox and their pathetic defeat last night by the D-Rays. The D-Rays. I'm not positive that I couldn't put together a squad of 9 of my buddies and scratch out a couple runs against them. S0 when the Sox lose to them, it's something of a gut-shot to me. It sucks. YES, I know we're 15 games into a 162 game season. But dammit, it's the fuckin' DEVIL RAYS.

While we're on Boston sports - the Bruins... oh, the Bruins... like interest wasn't waning enough, the Bruins had to trade their best player, hire (and the fire) an atrocious GM, and then completely tank the season. Ugh. But hey! We got the #5 draft pick.

Ok, enough hockey - anyone still awake?

Fuck it. I'll be back later.